


Upon Waking In Strange Lands

by Bluerain1984



Series: Strangers in a Strange Land [1]
Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Biting, Bruising, Damien is easily intimidated when he's caught off guard, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, Hangover, M/M, Memory Loss, Mentioned pining and crush, Morning After, Robert may be a closet masochist, Robert pretends to be very bad, Robert's a big fat tease, Teasing, blackout drunk, but really isn't, fluff at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 21:21:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11654988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluerain1984/pseuds/Bluerain1984
Summary: "Bright orange pervaded the black void behind his eyelids, alerting him to the fact that morning had come yet again. The invasion of color was accompanied by an unusually powerful headache that threatened to beat out all other logic and sense from him. Damien let out a long moan and attempted to roll over, but every time he dared to use a muscle, he felt weighted down, as if he bore an albatross on his back. He whined, and fought against the aches until he was sitting up. Finally, Damien opened his eyes.This…was not his room. This wasn’t even his house."





	Upon Waking In Strange Lands

**Author's Note:**

> What's this? Activity after so long, and it's something new? YES!  
> I recently got into Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator, and I adore it! So, I'm writing a fic about my favorite two dads, and just shipping them together. More down after the fic.

Bright orange pervaded the black void behind his eyelids, alerting him to the fact that morning had come yet again. The invasion of color was accompanied by an unusually powerful headache that threatened to beat out all other logic and sense from him. Damien let out a long moan and attempted to roll over, but every time he dared to use a muscle, he felt weighted down, as if he bore an albatross on his back. He whined, and fought against the aches until he was sitting up. Finally, Damien opened his eyes.

This…was not his room. This wasn’t even his house. He was in a bedroom that contained a large bed, covered in a rather… stained set of sheets. The curtain along the window had half-fallen from its hooks, and the floor appeared to only be recently cleaned from things that left it still rather… disgusting to look at. Atop a tiny desk rammed into the left corner of the room, his clothes had been folded in an apparent attempt at neatness. He checked himself fast, seeing that he had only his white binder and his underwear on.

Oh God, what did he do last night, and where the hell was he?

A look outside the partially uncovered window revealed that he was in his cul-de-sac—he could see his own abode just up the street. But that did not answer where he was at present. Another look outside showed the corner of his neighbor’s house. He saw Amanda getting the mail for her father.  
If he recalled, that meant…

“Finally up, sweetheart?” Damien whipped his head toward the door. Robert Small, neighbor, friend-of-a-friend, notorious ne’re-do-well, stood looking at him, drying his grey-streaked hair with a brown towel, while wearing his usual red sweatshirt and a pair of boxers.

“Why…am I here?” Damien hazard to ask. He rubbed at his head as he was attacked by a sudden pulse of pain. “What happened last night, Robert?”

“You don’t remember?” the slightly older man asked as he strolled far too casually around to the bed.

“If I could, I would not be asking; now please, Robert, tell me! I—I recall the party next door yesterday. I remember Mary coaxing me to join the two of you for the night.” Bar-hopping was a bit out of Damien’s preferred nightly activities. When he got off work, he usually liked to stroll through the graveyard, or sit at the bay and watch the moonlight off the water, or stay home, reading from his private library. But yesterday had been a bit difficult for him. Damien had been going through a minor heartbreak, after growing close to their newest neighbor, only to realize that the man was more interested in Mr. Cahn more than himself. Damien supposed it was to be expected. He was not as fit as Craig, nor as... outgoing. That was why he indulged his oldest, dearest, bosom friend, Mary, in her request to take him to Jim and Kim’s for drinks. “I don’t remember anything after going to the bar,” Damien told Robert, who now had discarded his towel and dropped down beside him on the bed.

“Sounds like a blackout,” Robert said. “You had a lot of shots.” That explained the taste in his mouth. Damien looked at Robert and vaguely recalled being encouraged by the man to do those shots of whiskey.

“That doesn’t help explaining why I’m naked, in your bed.” In an instant, Damien felt as if he’d swallowed a five pound stone. He swallowed. “I…Did…Did we…last night?” he asked, his voice rising steadily higher as he asked. Surely not! Even drunk, he wasn’t the type to fall in bed with anyone; especially not a neighbor!

However, Robert’s mouth turned upward in a grin. With quickness Damien would never have guessed from the man, Robert was half-looming over him, one arm around him, palm against the wall, effectively trapping Damien in place on the bed, like a fox pounced upon a helpless rabbit.

“Did we fuck?” Robert drawled, putting emphasis on the final consonant of the last word. The phrase hung in the air between them before Robert continued. “Yeah. We did.”

“I—” Damien’s voice died in his throat. No. It couldn’t be true!

Robert canted his head to the left, and said, “After about, oh, eight shots, you started lookin’ like you’d fall down if the wind blew too hard at you. So Mary wanted to take you home. But you told her ‘No, no, dear Mary, just a bit more,’” Damien was not impressed by Robert’s mocking imitation of his voice. “So I got you to your feet and brought you over,” the man continued. A rough, deep chuckle came from Robert as he raised his other hand, dark skinned with small, silver scars peppering it, brushing some of Damien’s raven locks from his face. Damien’s cheeks grew warm as they bloomed bright red. “You were hangin’ off me the whole way back,” Robert added, “I told you that I thought vampires were supposed to be dignified, and that got you riled up.”  
“B-Because I am not a vampire!” Damien countered.

“S’what you said last night, too,” Robert said, “But I still needed proof. How’s a man gonna have a peaceful night’s sleep if he’s too worried his neighbor, in the enormous, black Victorian down the street, is gonna sneak in one night and suck him dry?” Robert leaned in closer still, as if he wasn’t already practically in Damien’s lap. “Speakin’ of—I asked you to prove you weren’t a vampire. I told you to bite me.”

“How does that prove I’m not--”

“If you left normal teeth-marks, I’d believe you.” Robert made that chuckle again and it tugged at something deep inside Damien’s chest. “Oh, you left a doozy. Nice big, purple bruise right here,” he proclaimed, reaching with his free hand to place it in the curve that sat between neck and shoulder. Unfortunately Damien couldn’t see that for confirmation, as the shirt covered that spot. But Robert dropped his hand, and continued, “Then I brought you up here and we went at it all night. We nearly broke the bed frame, sweetheart, and you cried my name the whole time. Best lay I’ve had in a while.”

Damien’s chest felt hollow, and his skin was chilled. However horrifying the idea of just sleeping with his neighbor was, he had to remind himself: Robert Small had a propensity for tall tales.

“I…I don’t believe you,” Damien mustered up enough courage to say his suspicion aloud.

“Oh?” Robert’s grin grew. That couldn’t be good. Again, with that surprising agility, Damien’s right hand was grabbed and Robert had it up and pressed to the wall behind them. “You jerked me off with this hand downstairs, right at my front door, while you were bitin’ into me. Didn’t even have it closed yet, and you had your hands everywhere you could get ‘em.”

“That’s a lie!” Damien protested.

“Is it?” Robert shot back before he shifted, straddling Damien now. “You were on me like white on rice, sweetheart, and I was happy to give you a decent ride. Hell, you’re one of the best lookin’ people in town, and everything you wear shows off your ass: who wouldn’t wanna take you?”

Damien’s eyes stung. His chest hurt even more as it started heaving, the man desperate for air. Was it true, after all? Did they really have sex while they were drunk? Damien made a soft gasp as he gathered enough air to speak once more.

“You’re not that sort of man…”

The pronouncement caused Robert to go still. After a moment, he pulled away from Damien, movements slow. His grin slacked off but still remained, albeit softer. A bit defeated looking, in fact.

“Yeah,” Robert said at last, “Yeah, you got me. We didn’t really have sex.”

Damien finally took a long inhalation as the words left Robert’s mouth. “Thank God.”

“Don’t be that happy,” Robert said, getting off the bed and walking over to retrieve Damien’s clothes. “I like to think I’m still sexy enough for some action.”

As Robert handed him his clothes, Damien asked, “What actually happened? Why did you feel the need to take my clothes off?”

“Well, everything up to when we got to the cul-de-sac’s true. Halfway to your house, you puked on yourself, so I dragged you over here. Stripped you. Put your stuff in the washer, and let you sleep it off. I was downstairs the whole night.”

Damien wasn’t quite sure if the true account of his drunken evening was more comforting or…a bit disappointing. He couldn’t deny he’d been a little entranced at Robert’s earlier tale, however false or debauched it was. But he was glad that at least his honor and virtue were still in one piece. He looked at the clean shirt and vest in his hands, and said, “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ve got coffee goin’ down stairs if you want some.”

While coffee sounded heavenly, Damien had another realization. “What time is it?” he asked. Robert swept Damien’s phone from the desk, as well, and brought it over. The numbers on it had his blood going cold yet again.

“Eleven thirty!? Dear God, I’m late for work!!” He leapt from the bed, not as concerned with modesty as he would have been at any other time, “And Lucien’s probably wondering where I’ve been! Good gracious—I need to call him; I need to make sure he’s all right.” As Damien struggled with getting dressed and calling his son and his employer, Robert disappeared. He didn’t see his host again until he was downstairs. Robert was waiting at the bottom.

“So, coffee or no?”                         

“I am quite honored by the generous offer, Robert, but I must decline,” Damien said, “I am exceedingly behind schedule, and I shan’t keep either my son or my employer waiting any longer. I hope you understand.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Robert said, going to get the door for him. At least Robert had the manners to help see him out. Before Damien was out, a black, Boston terrier came running at him. The dog barked excitedly at him. It was the dog he’d seen with their neighbor just a few weeks ago.

“Oh, goodness, hello! Betsy, wasn’t it?” Damien said. He knelt before the canine and scratched at her ears. “Oh, my, you’re still quite a beauty,” he said her. To Robert, he turned his head up and smiled. “Not your dog, correct?”

“So I got attached,” Robert replied with a shrug. Damien stood again, a sigh lilting from him.

“Had I but time, I would like to get to know you,” he said to Betsy.

“I can swing by your place tonight with her,” Robert offered. “If you want.”

Damien’s eyes flicked from Betsy to Robert’s face. There was a sincerity in his expression that Damien rarely saw, and which was likely rarely offered. He nodded. “As you wish, then.”

He bowed to Robert, bidding him another au revior, and began to hurry across the street to his own home.

* * *

 

Robert shut the door after his guest left, and watched out his front window as Damien crossed over to his re-imagined Victorian. “Damn, those pants hug that ass,” he muttered.

Betsy barked up at him, jumping a bit on her back legs to paw at his leg with her front ones.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Shoulda’ fought a little with that coffee,” he answered to her. Robert walked back through his living room, passing a small mirror that hung on the wall. He stopped, looking at it. He didn’t linger much on his face, but instead went for lower. He tugged at his shirt’s neck until he saw the deep purple skin. It spread out like a blooming flower. As his fingers brushed the spot, he still felt the sting and ache. He fingered the spot a bit, indulging the pain and smiling wider.

“I’ll getcha next time, sweetheart.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, do you think Robert was telling the truth the first time, or the second? I could always write up what really happened, but I'll leave that up to you all to decide ;) Let me know if you want further stories about Robert and Damien in this continuity.
> 
> As I stated, I LOVE these two. They were my favorite dads to romance and I was glad I got their best endings. The reason I ship them is because they both hide so much from everyone and I think that, even with Damien being a scaredy-cat in reality, he'd be able to find his courage with Robert. I also think Robert could find a reason to be a good man again through Damien and his sweetness and inner purity. Ah well...time will tell on that front.
> 
> Anyway, kudos are loved, comments with constructive critique or thoughts are much appreciated, and if you wanna follow me on Tumblr, you can find me at http://justthefangirl.tumblr.com/


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